Ling He had never imagined he would still be welcomed across the threshold, much less given another chance to wash his hair and bathe inside Yan Xiaodao’s home. He had always believed that every choice and every deed eventually demanded a price, and that among the things he had sacrificed would be all the tenderness Xiaodao had shown him lately, all the care and consideration. In the end, he had underestimated Yan Xiaodao’s generosity. Xiaodao had actually been willing to pick this cold-blooded crawling creature out of the gutter again, take him in, warm the body that had gone rigid from years of coldness and a deadened heart, and heat his heart back to life.
Yan Xiaodao had taught him not only how certain intimate pleasures could leave a person addicted after the first taste, unable to stop. Ling He had also begun learning the taste of human warmth itself, understanding it, enjoying it, and becoming so content that he no longer wanted to crawl back into the gutter. Who would willingly abandon the sunlight of a peaceful world once they had learned how it smelled?
The bathroom adjoining the bedroom looked almost exactly as it had when Ling He left, except the walls had gone dry and cold, and a layer of dust covered the few toiletries sitting on the sink. The appearance of both masters at once instantly filled the empty space again, humid steam rising through the air.
The steam seemed to follow their moods, growing increasingly sticky and intimate until even breathing became difficult.
Two tall adult men squeezed into the glass shower enclosure at once. With their bodies constantly bumping against it, the glass door looked dangerously close to collapsing.
Ling He watched yellow muddy water spiral around the metal drain and slowly disappear. Deep yellow faded to pale yellow. After several rounds of rinsing, the water finally ran clear and washed him clean.
The filthy clothes he peeled off had been sculpted rigid by dried mud and now stood stubbornly by themselves outside the shower.
The yellow-earth bird’s nest on his head looked capable of incubating eggs. After Yan Xiaodao patiently worked shampoo through it, separating strand from strand, the hair finally regained its original color. The Qin-dynasty terracotta warrior gradually transformed back into a mixed-race male model.
Ling He had not bled or suffered any real injury, but several bruises had appeared across his shoulders and back from the falls and impacts. Yan Xiaodao’s heart ached at the sight. He circled behind him, wrapped both arms around his waist, and planted kisses along the edges of the bruises, writing footnotes of affection across Ling He’s skin.
Holding Ling He from behind inevitably made Yan Xiaodao’s own hungry body react against him. Through a lover’s eyes, Mr. Ling’s build was nearly perfect. Every stretch of muscle and skin seemed precisely arranged, glowing beneath the bathroom light with an irresistible warmth that burned through Yan’s self-control like fire spreading across dry ground.
Ling He noticed immediately. He snapped back to attention, twisted around, and shook off Yan Xiaodao’s opportunistic embrace. “You’ve gotten bold!”
Yan Xiaodao spread his hands helplessly. “I didn’t even do anything!”
Ling He cast a cool glance downward at the part of Yan Xiaodao making absolutely no effort to hide its intentions. His voice mingled seductively with the rushing water. “All right, Mr. Yan. I understand. This is your way of asking me to sleep with you. Tonight I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself thoroughly.”
Yan Xiaodao: “…”
Mr. Yan suddenly suspected he had walked into the wrong house. Whose home was this, exactly?
Who was it again, Mao Zhixiu or someone else, who had once claimed this Young Master Ling suffered from some mysterious physiological problem too embarrassing to discuss? What sort of man with a hidden “problem” spoke this shamelessly and directly while flirting?
Ling He wrapped a large bath towel around his lower body. Hearing suspicious shuffling beyond the door, he guessed exactly which two creatures were responsible and cracked the bathroom door open.
The opening was barely a handspan wide, yet somehow the enormous Lord Bear and Sanniang both squeezed through it. The two fat beasts apparently possessed the legendary skill of shrinking their bones. They rushed in, desperate to express how deeply they had missed their two masters, unfortunately choosing a spectacularly inappropriate moment.
Yan Xiaodao’s freshly washed body was immediately covered in gray-and-white fur. The foolish ruler flew into imperial fury, shouting at both beloved concubines without managing to shake off their enthusiastic paws, and with no clothes on there was nowhere for him to hide.
Yan Xiaodao roared, “Who let these two damn bears in here?!”
Ling He doubled over laughing at his misfortune.
Yan Xiaodao retaliated by reaching out and yanking away Ling He’s towel.
Ling He was instantly just as exposed. Lord Bear and Sanniang promptly discovered the more novel target and charged toward the expanse of honey-colored skin, nearly chasing Ling He onto the bathroom counter.
Ling He waved them away. “Go, go! Bite your own boss!”
Yan Xiaodao laughed loudly. “Already bored with the old and chasing the new, huh? Good job, you brats!”
They were making so much noise that even through the closed door they nearly drowned out the card game downstairs. The two men rapidly exchanged looks, then put on perfectly respectable voices and began scolding the dogs. “Stop biting my trousers! Lord Bear, let go!”
“Sanniang, why are you chewing my dirty clothes? You’ll get a mouthful of dirt!”
One shameless dog suddenly stuck out its tongue and tried to investigate somewhere it absolutely should not. Ling He recoiled in shock, swatting the creature’s face away while protecting himself. Yan Xiaodao laughed. “It only wants to lick you because it likes you!”
Ling He glared. “Why doesn’t it lick you?”
Yan Xiaodao answered without an ounce of shame. “They’re tired of looking at me. They’ve never seen you before. You’re prettier, so of course they like you!”
Sure enough, dogs really did resemble their masters.
The two dogs stared upward eagerly, tongues hanging out and drool practically forming strings, clearly fascinated by the novel target just beyond reach.
Ling He was furious, but his thoughts had already turned toward Xiaodao again. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “I want you to lick me.”
The words emerged naturally from emotion already overflowing its banks. The moment he said them, Ling He’s own throat went dry as heat crashed through his mind like waves against shore.
The two men finally retreated into the bathtub, because only by soaking together could they temporarily escape the excessively loving attentions of their “paparazzi.”
Yan Xiaodao reclined against the edge of the tub. Ling He crawled over him like a large cat, wet skin gleaming. Yan’s gaze traveled between Ling He’s arms, down his chest and abdomen, then lower, and the impressive view nearly sent his heart flying out of his chest.
Dinner consisted of several enormous steamers of cabbage-and-mushroom buns made by Mrs. Yan, and only the handsome guest received them. Everyone else got boxed takeout.
They were honest northern-style buns, each large enough to equal six dainty southern ones. Yan Xiaodao ate six giant buns and felt painfully full. He counted Ling He’s plate with his chopsticks and discovered the man had somehow swallowed eight in one sitting, apparently without bothering to chew.
Yan Xiaodao said, “You don’t need to flatter her this aggressively. You’ll burst.”
Ling He answered around a stuffed mouth, oil shining at the corner of his lips. “They’re genuinely delicious.”
A man’s appetite was apparently much like a woman’s beauty. Twenty-five was one small threshold, while thirty was a catastrophic dividing line from which there was no return. Mr. Ling was young after all. Our dear Mr. Yan had begun to feel the first hint of an age crisis. Apparently he could not even compete in eating anymore.
That night was the first time the two slept peacefully together in the large master bed of the Yan residence, sharing both blankets and pillows.
Naturally, the excuse they gave Mrs. Yan was that they needed to discuss business and look at the stars, and besides, all the other rooms were full and there were genuinely no spare beds.
Ling He lay on his side and looked at Yan Xiaodao with unmistakable meaning. Then he flipped neatly over and stacked himself on top of Xiaodao. This position seemed almost instinctive between them, allowing them to face each other directly and examine every delicate expression moving across the other’s face, nose to nose.
Yan Xiaodao frowned. “Xiao He, get off… My mother is sleeping next door. Could you at least leave me a little dignity?”
Ling He refused to yield. “If you don’t want it, don’t sleep with me. Go sleep on top of the piano.”
Yan Xiaodao had learned how to play shameless games too. “Why don’t you knock on the door next door and ask my mother whether she’ll allow you to do this?”
Unfortunately, nobody could out-shameless Young Master Ling. Ling He replied confidently, “Your mother said I saved her today. She allows it.”
They rolled up their sleeves metaphorically and pinched, pushed, and wrestled each other for a while before finally stopping. With Mrs. Yan next door and still psychologically unprepared for certain truths, neither dared take things too far. In the end, they still cherished each other too much to cause real trouble.
Yan Xiaodao began wondering whether he had been far too accommodating toward Ling He. Ever since tasting a little sweetness, this man had become increasingly determined to climb right over Yan’s nose and ascend to heaven.
Ling He, meanwhile, reflected that he truly had been behaving abnormally lately. The instant Xiaodao appeared in front of him, his mind automatically switched into a state of lust. One glimpse of an old scar on Xiaodao’s shoulder, one accidental flash of abdominal muscle when his shirt lifted, and Ling He’s thoughts would immediately slide downward and begin remembering the exquisite closeness they had already shared. Apparently the twenty-odd years before meeting Xiaodao had been completely wasted.
As they drifted toward sleep, both men lazily lifted heavy eyelids and glanced at the grand piano in the sitting room connected to the bedroom. The Steinway radiated a subdued, luxurious glow, silently watching the pair embracing in the darkness. That faint sheen stretched through the passage between sitting room and bedroom and settled over them from afar.
At first light the next morning, Yan Xiaodao left Mr. Ling sleeping beneath the blankets and used the excuse of his usual cold-water exercise to summon the hot-tempered brothers who most loved defending him. Squatting in front of them, he drew lines in the dirt and explained what had happened while he recovered in Luancheng, together with the causes and consequences of many other matters. Everything ultimately condensed into one sentence: from now on, all of you will respectfully address that green-eyed great demon as “Mr. Ling.” He is the person your boss cares about and loves most.
Naturally, certain private details were automatically omitted from Mr. Yan’s report. How he liked pampering Ling He in bed belonged exclusively to the two of them. There was no need to share it with outsiders.
That morning finally became a genuine scene of one family gathered happily beneath one roof. At some point, the two troublesome groups seemed to reach enlightenment and understand what their respective masters wanted. They stopped dividing the living room into rival camps and naturally mixed together across the sectional sofas, chatting and laughing. That very morning, Immortal Mao even drove Kuanzi and two of Yan’s younger men to the imported-goods market to buy an enormous batch of breakfast takeout together. They already looked remarkably close.
Poor Yang Xifeng buried all his grief and indignation against the hard chest of his iron-brother Kuanzi and practically beat a wooden fish in repentance. “What am I supposed to do? Who knew they’d reconcile this quickly? If they got back together, why didn’t they warn us first so we could mentally prepare? This is a trap! I called Mr. Ling a ‘fox spirit’ several times. He definitely heard me. What do I do? What do I do?!”
Having offended the person sharing his big brother’s pillow, Little Brother Yang became extraordinarily timid. Could spoken words somehow be swallowed back? He felt certain he would soon be thrown out of the family to wander the streets, or perhaps demoted to hard labor in the backyard, losing his arrogant position as squad leader of Bodyguard Team No. 1 forever. His future looked bleak. Life had become impossible.
Kuanzi sighed. “I’ve figured it out. Big Brother is completely devoted to him. He’s just that good-looking. Add every other one together and they still don’t look as good as this one.”
Mrs. Yan split the bright red hawthorn fruits open and filled them with sweet red-bean paste, then threaded them alternately with mandarin segments and pieces of black-sesame candy. She cooked a small pot of syrup and poured it over the skewers. Once the glossy, sweet candied hawthorn cooled, it was ready, without even the faintest taste of dirt. Cooking a meal, stitching a shoe sole, or making candied hawthorn for that handsome boy surnamed Ling delighted her so much that even her footsteps seemed lighter.
Little Brother Yang hurried over with extraordinary attentiveness and presented the candied hawthorn to Ling He. While Mr. Ling ate, Fengfeng practically wanted to turn himself into a cat crawling beneath the table just so he could catch a few sugar crumbs falling from Ling He’s mouth. Watching this shameless display of flattery, Immortal Mao sat cross-legged on the sofa and sighed. “Fengfeng, you’re basically our Su Zhe forged into a steel rod. Put the two of you together someday and we’ll never run out of drama.”
Yang Xifeng looked confused. “Who’s Su Zhe?”
Immortal Mao shrugged. “Your fried-dough-twist version.”
Ling He finally tasted the candied hawthorn produced by Mrs. Yan’s home workshop. One large bite of syrup-coated hawthorn hit first with a transparent, brittle sweetness, followed by a soft, lingering flavor that remained at the back of his throat for a long time. Ling He had never been good at flattering people with sweet words, and now that he actually needed to praise his future mother-in-law, embarrassment made him even more reserved than when they first met. He felt oddly guilty. In the end, after eating, he could only silently follow Mrs. Yan into the kitchen, help wash dishes, and ask her how to proof dough and steam buns.
During the quiet hour after lunch, the two men, each carrying private thoughts, met once again in the bedroom for another conference.
Ling He caught Xiaodao by the wrist and leaned against the closed piano lid. “Xiaodao, I’ve been thinking. I should probably leave your place first. Living together here isn’t very convenient.”
Yan Xiaodao raised a brow. “What’s inconvenient?”
“Was last night convenient?” Ling He smiled teasingly. “Why don’t you stay with me instead? I have another place somewhere between Yandu and Linwan.”
Yan Xiaodao neatly stepped over the topic that had suddenly made certain parts of him feel unusually sensitive and focused on something safer. “You don’t want to live beneath the same roof as my mother? That won’t work in the future. I’m the only person my mother has to depend on, so we’ll definitely keep living together. In our family, filial duty is still a basic requirement.”
Ling He immediately objected. “Nonsense! Your mother treats me wonderfully. Good food, good drink, candied hawthorn every day. From now on I’ll support her in her old age myself. Mr. Yan, you can stop getting in the way.”
Yan Xiaodao wrapped one arm around Ling He’s waist and lifted the piano lid with the other, revealing both the ivory-colored keys and two keepsakes lying among them. Against the pale keys, the brass carried the dark, scorched weight of metal that had survived gunfire. Ling He recognized them immediately. Two spent shotgun shells.
Yan Xiaodao had drilled holes through the casings and threaded them onto red cords as necklaces. He placed one around Ling He’s neck and wore the other himself, then involuntarily closed his fingers around his own shell and kissed it with extraordinary devotion.
There was something youthful and almost naive about such tokens, as though they belonged beside the plane-tree shadows outside the little white house in the old city, the weeds swaying atop a wall beneath sunlight, young smiling faces in the corner below, and fingers secretly hooking together where nobody could see. The innocence tasted like first love. It was as though someone had pressed rewind on an old cassette player and sent both their lives backward until they were sixteen again, meeting years too late yet somehow beginning for the first time.
Ling He removed a bracelet from his wrist and, allowing no argument, slipped it onto Yan Xiaodao’s. Among cultivated people in their circles, expensive kinam agarwood Buddhist-bead bracelets were fashionable collector’s pieces. From the dense, dark beads and rich fragrance alone, Yan could tell this was absolutely not cheap.
Elio’s Notes: Kinam, also called qinan, is an exceptionally rare and highly prized grade of agarwood. High-quality kinam prayer beads can be extremely valuable, which is why Yan immediately compares the bracelet to the Steinway.
Yan Xiaodao said, “Isn’t this too expensive? It might be worth more than that Steinway.”
Ling He answered seriously, “Since you know it’s expensive, wear it properly. Don’t take it off. You’re not allowed to lose it or give it away.”
“Why would I ever be willing to?” Yan Xiaodao smiled brightly.
Ling He quietly led his little “employee squad” out of the Yan villa. Before leaving, he deliberately wrote an apologetic note for Mrs. Yan, who was still napping, claiming Mr. Yan had sent him down to the docks to board a ship and start work.
Living beneath one roof genuinely created many inconveniences. Plenty of things they wanted to do required hesitation and restraint because each had to consider the other person’s feelings. Ling He understood this, and Yan Xiaodao understood it too, though Yan found it awkward to ask his guest to leave. Ling He had always been perceptive, so naturally he volunteered first. Their feelings were already deep, and they had plenty of future ahead of them. They did not need to cling together every hour of every day.
Yan Xiaodao stood by the gate and watched Ling He’s group leave.
As the electric gate slowly closed, solemnity settled across his face again. Almost unconsciously, he lifted the old banner of loyalty and brotherhood back onto his shoulders, the same one he had carried for years.
Now that he was home, he had to report to his godfather. There was no point trying to hide it anyway. Yan Xiaodao returned to the study, thought carefully for a while, then dialed a familiar number. “Godfather. It’s Xiaodao.”
Qi Baoshan’s voice remained composed. “You landed at Jinmen Airport at two-twenty yesterday afternoon, and you’re only calling me now?”
Yan Xiaodao paused. “Mm… Have you been well lately? I’ll come see you.”
Qi Baoshan did not lose his temper. He even laughed. “I’m fine. Nothing serious. Thank you for thinking of me.”
Living separately did make certain things easier. For instance, when Xiaodao went to see his godfather now, he did not need to report every detail to Mr. Ling and risk provoking another disagreement. And when he wanted to meet Ling He privately and enjoy the intimate pleasures belonging only to the two of them, nobody else needed to know that either.
Yan Xiaodao had begun suspecting that the sudden large-scale demolition in Huima Town had been deliberately engineered. Was it merely a surprise demolition operation created by some real-estate developer who had privately reached a profit-sharing arrangement with the town government, or did it carry some deeper purpose aimed at particular people? Then again, if Yan assumed his own family home had specifically been targeted, wasn’t that approaching persecution paranoia?
The Yan family had once been desperately poor, but these days Yan was somebody important in town. He had personally paid for village water projects and the asphalt road leading outside. Anyone willing to ask a few questions would learn that this was Mr. Yan’s family home. Yan Xiaodao never introduced Mrs. Yan as his adoptive mother to outsiders. He always called her his biological mother. Who had enough nerve to demolish his mother’s house?
Mrs. Yan had been lucky, protected by Christ’s holy light. She happened to be attending an activity at church when the excavator arrived, otherwise she might genuinely have been killed.
Within the Yandu-Jinmen real-estate world, the larger a corporation became, the more clearly it understood alliances, patronage, and territorial boundaries. Everyone knew whose mountain they were eating from and which Buddha they needed to bow to. Red lines separated each faction’s territory, and serious players rarely crossed them casually or seized another family’s interests. If a company offended every peer in sight through blind stupidity, how could it possibly keep doing business? That was another reason Yan Xiaodao refused to believe the house had simply been “demolished by mistake.” When something this abnormal happened, there was always something strange behind it.
If the demolition really had been accidental, by now the other company’s people would already have appeared at his door with apologies and compensation, offering land or a replacement house. A full day and night had passed, and nobody had contacted him. That meant they had not demolished the wrong house.
Qi Baoshan had not left the area throughout these days. He was probably bitterly disappointed in this unfilial godson by now, believing Yan could no longer be trusted or relied upon.
Yan Xiaodao could not suppress his suspicion of his godfather. The more he thought about it, the more Qi Baoshan seemed like the one person with both the nerve and influence to flatten his adoptive mother’s home simply to force him to show himself and return… But would Master Qi truly choose to hurt him that way?
……
Mr. Ling’s convoy left Linwan’s New District and entered the expressway.
Mao Zhixiu glanced into the rearview mirror from the corner of her eye. Her boss was sitting alone in the back seat again. Even she felt oddly unaccustomed to losing the person she could casually tease and bicker with without provoking genuine anger.
Mao Zhixiu said, “Mr. Ling, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The first thing Mr. Yan does is definitely going to be visiting his godfather.”
Ling He watched green scenery stream past the window. His mood seemed just as lush as the painted colors of early-summer flowers and vegetation outside. All his previous anxiety had disappeared. Calmly, he said, “I know.”
Mao Zhixiu sighed. “You actually let him go? What if he grabs Master Qi and runs away with him?”
A curve born entirely of confidence appeared at Ling He’s lips. He smiled. “He won’t leave. He can’t leave me.”
Mao Zhixiu asked, “When he goes out this afternoon to see Qi Baoshan, do our people need to follow him?”
“No need. I planted a locator and listening device on him.” Ling He looked completely normal, calm and powerful, everything already under control.
Mao Zhixiu silently rolled her eyes. Mr. Ling truly never hesitated to use methods on the people closest to him.
“I’m not monitoring him.” Ling He’s eyes were clear and frank. “I’m genuinely worried something will happen to him. He just came back, and I’m afraid somebody may target him.
“And who would dare drive an excavator into the hometown of Baoding Group’s boss’s godson and flatten his house? Unless… unless Qi Baoshan himself ordered Mrs. Yan’s home demolished. But I don’t think Master Qi would hurt Xiaodao that way. It gains him nothing. So who exactly did something this stupid?”
Everyone had gathered once more around the critical territory of Yandu, Jinmen, and Linwan. They could not be far from the center of events or from the truth anymore. Those powerful figures with guilty intentions who had remained hidden until now would eventually be unable to sit still.